


What We Know

by Silverhawk



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age : Origins
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:45:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverhawk/pseuds/Silverhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Blight is won, the throne has been taken, Aradia Amell has returned to the Tower. She did not flee.</p>
<p>Really, she didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Know

Oh, he hated patrolling in the library. Too many memories, both good and bad. In his mind, this place was *hers*. She had spent countless hours reading, studying or chatting quietly with her friends. The blood mage and the apostate. Anders had made an escape three weeks before, so far as he knew the mage hadn’t been found yet. Jowan however had returned to the circle, sent back by her to face Irving and the templars. Wynne had come back too, after they defeated the archdemon. She wouldn’t talk about the younger mage—not that he had worked up the nerve to actually ask. In truth, he were likely better off not knowing. Alive or dead, still involved with the former templar—the now king if she were still alive… Even though he would never admit it, the thought of her having died gave Cullen a heavy feeling in his stomach. She’d always been so filled with life.

 

Aradia had actually greeted him when he had come to the Circle at age sixteen. While many of the mages and apprentices ignored the lot of the templars… She had shown them respect and treated them as people despite the fact that most didn’t return the courtesy. So many memoires of her smiling up from a book at him; the handful of times that his hand or body would just barely brush against hers if he were helping her to reach a book. That didn’t include the day dreams that he had… Of them away from the circle… Kissing… More than kissing… All of those memories and dreams had of course, bitten him in the ass. They were just fuel for Uldred’s demons; something that they’d wielded against him more capably than most of the templar’s wielded their swords. In his defense, it had taken awhile for the demons to wrench the memories from his subconscious—but when they did it had been brutal—The demon’s purple cast turning to her pale smooth skin; horns that turned red and started falling into waves down slender shoulders.

 

A glance down the last aisle of books and he startled. Long red hair, twisted back into a braid. Pale skin… She sat awkwardly on the floor in robes obviously not of Circle standard issue as they revealed a long expanse of leg and arms. He jolted in panic, ‘This is a trick!’ his mind reeled, it was almost as if his memories had conjured her there. ‘It isn’t real.’ Her legs were curled under her, in a way that looked almost painful—her shoulders sagged forward, as if she carried the weight of the world. One would think that would have changed after the blight ended. She had lost weight even since he had last seen her. ‘This *isn’t* real. They’ve plucked my memories..’

 

A massive war hound rested beside her, but lifted its head and whined which drew her attention. She looked back, her green eyes meeting his own brown widening before she winced. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice was tight, almost panicked—even to his own ears, so he tried a second time, “What are you doing here!” he noticed when she winced again, this time at the tone of the second question.

 

“Here specifically, or here ‘not dead?’” there wasn’t even a hint of her normal jovial tone—not a smidgen of her usual sense of humor or sarcasm. Her gaze went back to where she’d been tracing shapes onto the stone floor.

 

“Both.” He said quietly.

 

“Not dead because a man made a stupid decision. And because the Archdemon died before I did. Though, it was very close.” The second part sounded a little wistful.

 

“Why are you **here**?” ‘In my library? In my tower?’

 

Her head tilted to one side, “I’m a mage.” She said softly.

 

“You are a Grey Warden.” It almost came out as an accusation.

 

“I am, yes. If I’m needed, I will go. Until then… I came… I came home.”

 

“Is Greigor going to-?”

 

“Being a Grey Warden comes first, Cullen. Mage comes second. Then everything else.” Then she added under her breath, “Being a person comes last.” Then she said, “Greigor has allowed me to come back.”

 

“With your dog.” He sounded skeptical.

 

“Matched set, he and I. Where I go, he goes and vice versa.”

 

He stared at her, and realized… She sounded… She sounded somehow wrong. Her tone was even—almost like a Tranquil. Greigor wouldn’t have done that though… Not to her. Not after all she had done for him, for their tower… For Ferelden. He had heard the tales, already. The songs. All for her. **She** had stopped the blight. “Why did you come back _here_?” He asked briskly. Best to get straight to the point.

 

“Because this? This is really all I know.”

 

“What about…” ‘Don’t ask, don’t ask!’ “What about the man? The templar travelling with you?”

 

‘Ah yes,’ she thought, ‘Alistair.’ How could she forget? Alistair had been the one to drag her from Cullen’s magical prison. She’d nearly forgotten… She’d burned herself on the prison—hadn’t cared a whit—and she had fought Alistair tooth and nail, shrieking like a banshee when he had tried to make her move on before she was ready or willing. Even after everything that had happened… she still felt awful about the wounds she had given Alistair. She hadn’t realized what she’d done to him until after their confrontation with Uldred. She’d bitten him when he’d covered her mouth to stop her screaming… Left long gashes on his hands and arms and face with her fingernails when she’d tried making him let go. She had been utterly furious. Cullen had been the first person at the Tower who wasn’t a mage to show her any real amount of kindness… It would come as no surprise that she’d had a crush on him since he’d come to the tower. He was handsome yes—and he didn’t look at her or any of the other mages like they were destined to become monsters. And the way he’d looked at her specifically was as though… ‘It doesn’t matter now.’ She cut the memories off. “He’s going to be King of Ferelden. May already be, actually… I’ve lost track of days… Coronation could already have happened.” Her voice was even as she said, “No place in that world for a little mage whore, anyway.” There wasn’t even a little fire behind the last words.

 

It was his turn to wince then, he almost argued with her but stopped himself, instead only asking, “He actually said that to you?”

 

“Mmm. He did, the Arl. The Teryn. The Queen too.” The dog stood and leaned into her, snuffling her hair and making a few strands fall out of the loose braid. She leaned into the dog, , wrapping her arms around him, her chin resting on top of his head—the great dogs teeth near her bared throat. While sitting they were about the same height, but Cullen is pretty certain that the dog outweighs her.


End file.
